


Coffee Spills and Subway Sandwiches

by winglxss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, specifically my friend's teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winglxss/pseuds/winglxss
Summary: Castiel hates the cold. But not as much as he hates Dean Winchester. When Dean spills scalding coffee on Cas's new bee shirt, that does nothing to help his dislike for the man. Spending an afternoon hellbent on inconveniencing him? That just might.





	Coffee Spills and Subway Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to tori for telling me about her teacher and his wife, saying, and i quote, "my teacher lived a deancas au". so i turned it into a deancas au. 
> 
> this is my first time actually publishing anything, so feedback is appreciated!
> 
> come say hi! i'm @asexualcas on tumblr

Cas does not like the cold. At all. In fact, he could even go so far as to say he hates the cold. Detests it, abhors it, however the fuck you want to phrase it, Castiel Novak hates the cold. He hates it even more so than usual on days like today, when his class - his class all the damn way across campus - gets cancelled and no one bothered to send out the auto call informing him. 

Which is how Castiel finds himself bundled to the nines on Main Street, staring at the traffic light as if the infernal thing will switch faster if it senses his anger.  
“I was here ten damn minutes ago,” he grumbles under his breath. “I could be doing something valuable with my time but noooo, oh no, fucking Marv-”

He cuts himself off as he hears raucous laughter approaching from his right. He turns his head to look and feels his day get worse as he stands there. 

Dean Winchester and Benny Lafitte, resident meathead jocks, are the only things Cas might just hate more than cold weather and they are currently shoving each other while walking in Castiel’s direction. 

The optimist in him says they might just keep walking and not see him. Not that he’s scared of them, not at all, he just hates their meathead ways and would rather not be subjected to them today. 

But, alas, he seems to have pissed off some sort of entity. In a pretty major way. Because Dean Winchester shoves Benny Lafitte just so that he slips on the ice patch right behind Cas and he is met with the flailing arms of a two hundred pound quarterback trying to break his fall. 

Shockingly, he doesn’t succeed. Instead, he runs headlong into Cas, who promptly falls to the cold, hard, snowy concrete beneath him.

He picks himself up, ignoring Benny’s concern and outstretched hand. Furious, he rounds on them.

“What the fuck is your problem,” he yells. Dean and Benny at least have the graces to look ashamed of themselves but Castiel continues anyway. “Listen, I don’t know what they teach you in football school, but this-” he gestures to their white surroundings. “- is called snow! And snow turns into ice! Which is slippery! And I’m sure you both lack the capacity to put the dots together on your own so I’ll do it for you: when there’s ice around, DON’T FUCKING PUSH EACH OTHER AROUND!”

Just then, he hears the meter indicating he can cross beeping. He turns and sees he only has two seconds left on the timer. Some quick deductive reasoning tells him that’s a bad idea and he feels his fury double in his chest.

“And now you’ve made me miss my light,” he snaps at the stunned jocks behind him. “Fucking imbeciles.”

The awkward tension that surrounds the trio makes the next three minutes feel like weeks. Cas knows his knees and hands are scuffed for sure, and his elbow doesn’t feel quite right either. He ignores the obvious sounds of the men behind him chuckling despite his urge to punch them both.

When the wait is finally up, Cas starts across the street at an honestly unsafe speed. Anything to get away from the idiots behind him.

He feels a sense of almost-relief when he hits the sidewalk and immediately takes a right towards his apartment. It’s still cold as balls out, but at least Dean and Benny aren’t behind him anymore. Assholes.

“Didn’t know you had a voice, Novak!” Cas knows that voice. Cas hates that voice. That voice is attached to an insufferable football player with stupid green eyes and a beautiful-

He cuts that though off before it can go any further, instead rounding on Dean with a comeback. He notices immediately that it’s only Dean; no Benny. 

“Didn’t know you could string a sentence together, Winchester,” he snarks. “With a contraction too, that’s pretty advanced stuff.”

“Hey, screw you, man,” Dean says. “You know I’m an engineering major, right?”

“Here on a football scholarship I assume?” Cas, in fact, didn’t know Dean’s major. His brother was an engineering major so he saw all the work he put in. He would feel bad if it wasn’t Dean.

“Here outta this.” Dean pats his pocket. Cas says the first thing that comes to mind, then regrets it instantly.

“Ah, so you fucked your way in.”

He feels the blush rise to his cheeks and bile rise in his throat. That might have been the rudest thing he’s ever said. No matter who it is, that was uncalled for.

He opens his mouth to apologize but Dean beats him to the punch.

“Rather that than be some pretentious preppy fucking English major here on Daddy’s dime,” Dean sneers. “And I don’t mean your father.”

With that Dean turns on his heel and leaves Cas standing there in the snow, ready to punch the brick building to his left. 

Seriously, fuck the cold.

+++

Two weeks after the incident with Dean, Cas has mostly forgotten about it. He’s uncomfortably reminded every time he sees a flyer for the next football game or, god forbid, the man himself. Every time he’s met with a wave of rage and shame that makes him walk the other way even if his destination is in front of him. He hates himself for it, but hey- avoidance works, right?

It works until it doesn’t. Specifically until that Wednesday, almost two and a half weeks after The Ice Incident. 

Cas is walking toward the same stoplight, today in a significantly better mood. Class had gone on as planned, the weather was warmer than usual (he tried not to think too hard about that one), and he had gotten an A on his Calculus test. Things were going well. He was even wearing his new shirt! A white one with a print of a scowling bee and the words “buzz off” surrounding it. 

He stands at the light with a small smile on his face when he hears familiar laughing and yelling behind him. The smile evaporates and he’s struck with a desire to either cry or rip his own hair out. 

He decides to count his blessings when he hears “later, Winchester,” in a Southern drawl, leaving Cas to only need to deal with Dean. Half of a monster is easier to handle than the full thing, right?

“Ayyy, Novak!” The sarcastic voice behind him calls out. Cas heaves a sigh before turning to respond.

What he sees is Dean tripping over the sidewalk not a foot in front of him, the coffee cup he was holding, flying out of his hand, and both football player and beverage alike coming towards him. 

He manages to catch Dean, but the hot coffee is now all over his new shirt and scalding his skin.

“YOU ASSHOLE-”

“I’m sorry, fuck, Cas, I’m so sorry-”

“FUCK THIS BURNS-”

“I’m-”

“Did you just call me Cas?”

Dean stops trying to soak his coffee up with his hands and looks at Castiel. He’s holding his shirt out from his body and has a righteous look of fury on his face, but now his eyebrows are clenched together in the middle of his forehead. Almost hopeful. Not that he would ever admit that.

“Sorry, man, I uh,” Dean stutters. He blushes and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I just give people nicknames automatically, I didn’t mean to.”

Cas nods once before turning his attention back to his shirt. He sighs deeply. Of course Dean Winchester would be the one to ruin it.

“What am I going to do with this?” Cas questions. His tone isn’t as harsh as it usually is with Dean but neither man is willing to examine that.

“I can take you to get a new one,” Dean volunteers. “I commute so my car is just in the garage across the street, if you want.”

Cas narrows his eyes in suspicion. Dean has less than no reason to help him. Besides, Cas knows how he drives. Everyone does; he drives the “sexy muscle” car with old music turned up too loud, takes corners too fast, and revs his engine at red lights for attention. It’s a staple of life on campus. 

But, Cas has to admit, an evening spent severely inconveniencing Dean Winchester is enticing. 

“Fine,” he says finally. “I got it at Meadows Mall on 8th and Weaver.”

Dean looks… relieved? No, that can’t be right. Unless he plans on crashing his car simply to hurt him…

Stop being so paranoid, he thinks. The voice sounds suspiciously like Gabe’s.

“Great!” Cas is pulled out of his thoughts by Dean’s voice. “I should have a flannel in my car, too, if you wanna change or something.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Cas says. He’s still on edge about getting into a car with Dean but if he’s trying, Cas will at least afford him the same respect. 

They cross the street together in awkward but almost companionable silence to Dean’s car in the student garage. 

He unlocks his car as he walks towards it and says, “The shirt should be in the back, just a second.” over his shoulder.

Cas can’t help but admire the car. He might not be overly interested in them, but he can tell when effort is put into upkeep. The paint is beautiful, there’s hardly a speck of dust to be seen, and the bumper is pristine. 

He opens his mouth to compliment Dean on his observations but his mouth ends up hanging open uselessly. Dean is rummaging around in the backseat, his rear end in full view. 

Wow, he has a fantastic- no, he scolds himself internally. No he’s a jerk who spilled coffee on your new shirt. You don’t like him.

By the time Dean turns back around, holding a blue and black checkered plaid over shirt, Cas considers himself to be mostly composed. If his cheeks are a shade or two darker, that’s no one’s business but his.

Dean holds the shirt out to Cas, who mutters a perfunctory “thank you” before turning his back to change.

He strips his soaked and stained bee shirt off and immediately wonders where he should put it. He turns to Dean to ask just that and finds him staring at his bare chest, color high on his cheeks. Cas smirks lightly. The fact that Dean found him attractive makes today all the more fun.

“Where should I put this,” Cas questions innocently. 

Dean clears his throat and looks around as if he’s expecting the other cars to answer for him. When, shockingly, the metal boxes offer no advice, he clears his throat again and moves towards the back seat again.

“Uh- lemme just-” he hits his head on the roof of the car. “Fuck ow- uhh… here.” He finally reemerges and brandishes a canvas shopping bag. 

Cas accepts the bag with a slight nod of his head and places his shirt into it, holding onto the blue one Dean gave him in his other hand.

He puts the bag on the ground and figures there’s no use in turning around again so he fits the flannel over his shoulders and buttons the material while maintaining eye contact with a clearly suffering Dean. 

He buttons all but the last two and Dean stares for another half second before abruptly walking around his car, pulling his phone out as he went. Cas smiled to himself again before bending over to pick up the bag holding his old shirt. 

This was going to be fun, indeed.

+++

Two and a half hours later finds Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak eating Subway sandwiches in the mall food court. What’s weirder is they’re laughing together. One might even call it flirting.

“Okay,” Dean says through laughter. “So, I get Sammy on top of the shed, right. And what does the ten-year-old dumbass do? He jumps!”

Cas throws his head back in laughter. Dean is turning out to be decent company. He clearly loves his family to the ends of the earth, he has a nice smile and laugh, and is generally very kind. He even ended up getting some new clothes from the store just to appease Cas.

“So, I end up putting his little ass on my handlebars and I biked him to the ER,” Dean says, laughter calming down. He watches Cas laugh, admires his smile, his laugh, the column of his throat… he stops the thought, and instead looks at the twinkle in Cas’s eyes when he brings his head forward again. 

“That is… extremely irresponsible of your parents to leave you and Sam home alone like that,” Cas says with mirth.

Dean laughs humorlessly before correcting him. This is always his least favorite part.

“Uh, uncle, actually.” He looks at Cas almost fearing his reaction. 

Cas merely tips his head, a smile still ghosting on his lips.

Dean moistens his lips nervously before continuing.

“Mom died, Dad left, Bobby was all we had, so we shacked up with him,” he explains, omitting the details. 

“Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Cas replies apologetically. “My dad may as well have left, he was entirely absent. My brothers raised me more than him and I never knew my mom.” he looks up to gauge Dean’s reaction. He looks sympathetic and like he’s about to parrot Cas so he tries to lighten the conversation again.

“If it helps.” His tone sounds coy to his own ears and he finds he doesn’t mind.

It works at least. Dean cracks a small smile again and laughs gently. He hesitates slightly before answering.

“It doesn’t, actually,” he begins carefully. “It does make me like you a little bit more though.”

“More?” Cas squints at Dean across the table. He’s looking at him boldly and Cas makes a decision.

“Ready to go,” he asks. 

Dean’s face falls and he hurries to cover it. Cas packs up both of their garbage and walks in step with a very dejected Dean. He throws all the paper in the trash can right in front of the automatic doors and follows Dean to his car.

He slides into the passenger side and waits for Dean to come around to the other door. He puts the keys in the ignition before turning to look at Cas with an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, man, I’m-” 

Cas cuts him off by sealing his lips over his. Dean makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat before sighing into it and bringing his hand up to cup Cas’s face. 

It’s shockingly tender, especially given they hated each other this morning. Dean’s fingers can’t seem to decide if they want to rest on Cas’s cheek, neck, shoulders, or chest. Instead they roam lightly as his other arm rests over the back of the seat, playing with what he can reach of Cas’s short hair. Cas hums and brings his hand from Dean’s jaw to his waist, leaving the other supporting his weight on Dean’s thigh. 

They are separated by the need to breathe. They rest their foreheads together and grin shyly as they catch their breath, fingers playing with the other’s hair.

“So, I’m gonna assume the flirting in the food court was okay, then,” Dean jokes a little breathlessly. 

He’s rewarded when Cas laughs and kisses him again.

“Yes, Dean, it was more than okay,” he says through a smile. “In fact, I would love to flirt awkwardly then make out in the front seat of your car again soon. Maybe with a movie this time?”

Dean smiles broadly and Cas mirrors it. 

+++

Two Years Later

“No.”

“Come on, babe, why not?”

“Dean, we are not asking Subway to cater our wedding!”

“Oh, come on, it would be so funny.”

“No!”

“... puppy dog eyes aren’t fair, Dean!”

“So, I’ll call Subway then!”

Cas sighs as his fiance kisses his cheek and skips to the phone, gloating. He then shakes his head and laughs. Thank god he got over his stupid crush-turned-hatred of the adorable man currently ordering five foot-long sandwiches for the middle of May; he knows how much Cas hates the cold.


End file.
